Are You a Boy Or a Girl?¿?¿

Tales of a genius ex-streetwalker have skyrocketed in international popularity.  Therefore, I am re-posting previous posts to the front page. I am always appalled at the low quality of early writings. I made many improvements. Merry Christmas 2018.


“Are you a boy or a girl?” The first time a man pulled over to the curb and asked me this question in Downtown Honolulu, I was more than a little offended. Was he trying to say I was ugly? I angrily asserted that I was a woman, just maybe a little tired from “runnin’ ‘em hard” or “chronic-ing”  local slang for choosing drugs over sleep for several consecutive days. I answered the question honestly. Yes, I was a female, no I had never been a male at any point in my life. The standard anatomical female body was, to my enormous surprise, declined time after time. I’m talking at least 100 times since I started in the companion

Was I hiding something?

When people asked if I was a boy or a girl I was surprised by how often I had the wrong answer.  Other women said they were often asked the same gender vlarification qurstion. I was advised not to take offense. As a person who was easily offended I had a difficult time following this advice. How could a female impersonator beat me in the rankings of most attractive hooker on Kuhio Street? Hey, it was not the typical beauty contest title, but IIhad awarded myself the top spot and did not care for rejection. “Haven’t you ever heard a guy] say”hat looks too good to be a female? The prettiest mahus are prettier than women. They try harder and they take better care of themselves than women. It’s a compliment.”

Years later,  I fell in love with Ken, at first aaclient who became a friend who became my love (unreciprocated). Ken passed away in 2017. He was my best friend and loved me as much as he could.  He was partly gay. He taught me a lot about the flexible nature of sexual preference. I wanted to know him better so  I interviewed many men about their involvement with mahus and other guys. I want to tell the world what I learned so no one has to reach the end of his life feeling abnormal. Ken did not deserve the conflict between what he felt and what he “should” feel. Here is what I learned that I want to you dear Readers, to take to heart.


My Ken lived his whole life never knowing that his desires were common. These male same sex encounters are not “counted” as homosexuality for many reasons I will explore in our time together. One of these reasons is that, an act is not a gay act if the other guy looks like a woman. I now understand that the men were not asking me simply because they thought I was a man, although I am sure some did. The blunt truth was that scores of men hoped I was a man. One guy described his best case scenario: beautiful face, trim body, and male genetalia. I did not fit the bill. “You’re do pretty, you would be perfect if you had a c**k,” someone once commented with real regret.

Stay tuned for what I did in an attempt to profitably fill this common male desire. And get more money for dope, and latet in my career, life expenses I did not have on the street.

Male? Female? People in search of sex workers often prefer a combined gender. That explains why for some, simply choosing s biological female was not the best option.


Published by X-Streetwalker Turned Sex Talker

Caroleena used to be a drug addicted hooker on streets of downtown Honolulu in the early years of the 21st century. She was not the only learned streetwalker among the sex worker addicts. This group would have been a liberal college admissions officer's dream of diversity seeing as how they represented such a wide range of ages, races, family types, locations of origin, education levels, and gender identities. The two constants were trauma and dependency. Everyone out there had experienced life altering trauma which spurred them to seek refuge in drugs. Addiction was the unexpected phenomenon that kept them stuck in the dope. This downtown area was different from other drug saturated areas of America in one important way. The U.S. is the most violent country in the world, but in this corner of the nation there were no street gangs, no gun violence. You wouldn't get shot but you were probably going to be beaten up and robbed at some point. Interpersonal violence between intimate partners, friends, and family members was viewed as a natural part of being close to people. "Domestics" was something an individual brought upon herself or himself by causing problems in an interpersonal relationship. Caroleena, the perennial pariah even among society's rejects, had no intimate associates who might harm her. Prostitution was not as risky on Oahu as it was most everywhere else because the island was just too small. Everyone was somehow connected to everyone else with only something like two degrees of separation. You commit a crime, someone will know who you are and someone else will know how to find you. Hookers rarely got killed. Honolulu's relative safety allowed Caroleena over 10 years of street longevity until the scene ended when authorities started arresting men for allegedly soliciting undercover police for sex and posting their pictures on the evening news. tells Caroleena's adventures during her decade of addiction and its consequences--homelessness, prostitution, drug dealing, incarceration, family destruction, the list goes on. Every story relates events Caroleena experienced, witnessed, or imagined. The tale of this outcast is skillfully and paradoxically told in the language of the elite. The wording of the posts is itself a testimony to the wide grip that addiction has on all levels of society, even impacting the privileged who were previously thought to be immune to the troubles of the lower class. During these days of opiate addiction maybe she can answer some questions and present applicable solutions. If not, you are still in for a hell of a good read.

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